


Feathered Hills

by extemporaneous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Dean Has a Sexuality Crisis, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Flower Crowns, Heaven, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Castiel, Panties, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Telepathy, Wingfic, domestic!Dean, wild!cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extemporaneous/pseuds/extemporaneous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is done with college, done with his family and done with Kansas in general. So he leaves, and settles down in a small cabin outside a rural town in South Dakota. He's been living off the hills, making it on his own. That is, except for a quiet presence in the trees- a winged creature that he has yet to actually see.</p><p> </p><p>Every night Dean goes out to the ridge outside his cabin to find the great black wings in the trees.<br/>Until one day, the wings find him.</p><p>Beta'd by Dammit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Molting

**Author's Note:**

> So I've started being more committed to this and that means the chapters are going to be longer starting at chapter 7. I'll go back and vamp up the first 6 soon enough, but I just thought I'd let you know :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Saturday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Edited 5/30/14 so if read before then, there are new elements]]

It had been ten years since the day his parents divorced and a year since he’d left his family for the rich hills of South Dakota. Dean didn’t miss Kansas at all, the flat, boring plains and constant nagging from family members to go out there and do something great. He wasn’t meant for great, he was meant for something else: he just didn’t know what yet. 

During the first week of his runaway, Dean drove and drove, only stopping when the Impala’s tank hit empty. It was just him and the pur of the engine. He rolled down the windows and let the sun beat down on his face, the wind rip through his hair. He’d only brought a duffel bag filled with some of his clothes and cooler containing more alcohol than anything else. But he loved it, the taste of it as he pressed the bottle to his lips and the feeling of freedom he had just given himself. 

Through a meandered road he eventually found himself somewhere he’d never been. Unfamiliarness washed over him and he knew he’d finally gotten to where he wanted to be. Nowhere. There was no reminder of Sammy, of John, of Gordon or Henriksen or Rhonda Hurley. He was in a place they finally couldn’t reach. When he stepped out of the car for the first time in miles, he could feel a whole new world, a new atmosphere. 

The hotel he found was ramshackle at best, operated by a couple by the names of Chuck and Becky. They seemed...nice. Although they smiled too much and had a lot of inside jokes that they brought up whenever Dean checked in. He stayed there for several days, trying to come up with a plan as he sat down at the breakfast they served, avoiding everything but the coffee. Dean had no idea what he was doing here, and he was starting to worry because he didn’t want his reserve of money to go all to staying in a cheap hotel. The beds weren’t the most comfortable thing but eventually he got used to it- just as much as he got used to Chucky, as he endearingly referred to them. 

Soon enough, however, he was restless again and ventured out into the thick green pine trees outside of the town Pringle. He was going to do the one thing that always calmed him down.

Rolling over the layer of pine needles coating the forest floor, the Impala shuttered to a stop. He was ducking under a low laying branch, shotgun holstered under his arm when he saw an old cabin. It wasn’t ancient,but he did find that a few logs were rotted, and when he finally busted open the creaking door he found the insides were utterly tangled with spider webs. It wasn’t exactly welcoming.

Dean set about cleaning it up. Any locals that knew about it didn’t mind what he was doing, in fact every now and then they’d chip in a twenty or two for lumber or nails.

While that was great, he still had to buy some furniture and to do that he needed substantial money. With what skills he still had from when Sam had gone through his “I can hack into anything” phase he figured out his father’s bank account and took a few thousand. John wouldn’t notice, Dean assured himself as he bought a bed, various ramshackle chairs and tables and some worn, but still salvageable kitchen appliances. With the spare money, he bought a gun. Dean didn’t want a job, or at least a full time one, so he hunted his own game and occasionally went to town to sell excess. 

And that was how things went, for him it was a basic, simple life and it lasted for at least a month before he had his first sighting. 

Up on a ridge about a mile away from his cabin, Dean was tracking a lone deer and it had slid into a ravine and out of sight of his gun. Dean was carefully and silently moving down the scrabble talis rock, so he could get ahead of it and meet up around the other entrance when he heard an echoing crash of a branch being snapped and the sudden sound of wings flapping. Judging by the air pushed down from above him in the trees, the bird must have been truly massive. He went home without a prize and with questions that he wanted answered. 

The next day he went into Pringle to inquire. Jo’s was his favorite cafe, and he went to talk to Jo herself--well that and the coffee was pretty good. Being a research type person she knew a lot about everything. With a mocha and an appetite for answers, they sat down and talked. Later that night he left with her number (finally) and even more questions than before. 

Jo said that nothing in South Dakota could make that noise, or get big enough to do so. Dean was restless for a little adventure. Every day, around dusk, the time that he had seen it first, he went out and sat on the ridge. It overlooked a small meadow, that turned a pretty shade of green when Summer finally came along. The various pine trees littered around were what he kept his eyes on. If it was a bird it would probably be perched in one of those, no matter how big. If nothing seemed to show, he’d spend the rest of the sunset eyes towards the sky and the slowly appearing stars, feeling relaxed and at peace.

And on some of the best nights, he did see it. Giant black and grey wings would curve up into the air, arching and stretching. Usually that was when everything out in the valley was a silhouette or the silhouette’s shadow. Every time his heart skipped a beat and his breath stopped. What could be so big? What could be so beautiful? Despite it’s size it’s movements were graceful and practiced. Sometimes they seemed methodical, like it wanted to be seen.

Dean would put money on the fact that it knew he was there, that he sat and waited, gazing listlessly for a glance at the wings. For some reason it seemed wrong to go out and actually look for it or it’s nest. Here and there, he’d contemplate the idea but within seconds, there was guilt, like it’s mystery was something sacred. And he never told anyone in Pringle about his sightings. The only one who knew was Jo and he’d made her promise to keep it a secret. 

Even if he didn’t hunt it, others might. Their silent co-existing relationship over the months became one of the things he woke up in the morning for. That’s why when Jo called him saying that someone had found an enormous dappled feather and that he should come take a look, Dean immediately rushed out the door. 

Pamela, a local sculptor had gone out for a hike near his property and while in the valley searching for fallen branches for her latest project, saw the feather caught in a pine. Everyone knew that Jo was a reliable resource and duly Pamela went to her, feather in hand.

Dean arrived right as the woman was about to leave. “Excuse me, Pamela? I heard that you’d found something on my property?”

“Oh yeah.” She said, a little surprised at his sudden appearance. 

“I’m sorry, Pamela, I called him.” Jo smiled, her eyes crinkling a little.

Dean gave her a nod as Pamela came forward with the object of conversation. “I found this thing, this feather while I was out looking for material for my latest project, you know the one...”

Dean lost her there, gaping at the feather. It was as long as her arm, and almost in perfect shape but for a little split and fray in the arched side of the fletching. “You...you found this out on that ridge, you said?” 

Francine nodded, eyeing Dean. “Yeah, out there, not too far from your cabin.”

Putting his hand to his mouth in thought, he blinked. “It’s huge. Can I take a look?”

Gingerly she passed it off to him. “Jo says she has no idea what it could be from.”

Jo gave a soft cackle as she cleared a table of old tea mugs. “It could be a Pterodactyl for all I know.” 

Dean thought he should give it a try, “Do you mind if I keep this? I might be able to find more.”

“Oh, yeah sure! I got no use for it. And it was on your property after all.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, truly grateful. “Oh and would you mind keeping quiet about it? I don’t want people clambering over my property in search of more feathers, if you know what I mean.”

Agreeing with his slightly untruthful logic, she bid farewell to Jo and went home. Jo gave him a look once she was gone, putting a hand on her hip. “So you weren’t making it up?”

Dean was a little shocked. “Of course not. Why would I do that, Jo?”

“Yeah, well whatever. And that was a good call, asking her to keep quiet. I have a feeling you're not worried about the fallen feathers, but the ones still attached, am I right?”

“Yeah...well, I gotta go back and get some sleep. It seems I’ve got some looking to do tomorrow. See you later, Jo.”

“Later, Dean.” She smiled warmly, pulling her blonde hair back into a pony tail to finish cleaning up the Cafe for closing time. 

***

He got home shortly after, pulling the impala off and parking to the side of his small cabin. The entire ride back he’d give the feather glances, which he had set on the passenger seat. Dean couldn’t help admire the beauty of it, how the grey at the end grew darker into a molted black. Slamming the car door he walked up to his front porch, in the process of unlocking the door he looked at the floormat and his breath hitched. 

There was another, left like a welcoming present for when he got home. He quickly opened the door and then scanned the trees outside for the bird. To no avail however and he soon gave up the search for it due to loss of natural light. As a last fleeting chance, he flicked on the porch light and eyes straining gave the towering pine trees one last going over before sulkily trudging back into his house. 

As he lay in bed, he realized that the placement of the feather was too deliberate. Holy shit. The creature-Dean was almost positive it wasn’t a bird- put it there, That mean it definitely knew about him and it had thought process. Dean was dealing with a giant, intelligent creature with wings. And, Oh yeah, no one can know about this. 

***


	2. Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Edited 5/30/14 so if read before then, there are new elements]]

Scratching. Scratching at the window pane inches from his face. Groggily Dean opened his eyes and was met by dark blue ones, a pale hand pressed up against the glass. Dean practically fell out of his bed and when he could look again, it was gone. Frantically he opened the window, leaning almost all the way out, hovering about a story above the pine needle coated ground. Below, another feather slowly floated down. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit....Holy shit!” He was pacing back and forth, downstairs in his ramshackle kitchen, in nothing but boxers. It was human- or at least partially human, and male. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the square jawline, straight nose, curiously arched eyebrows, and the eyes. They were so blue. And he had been watching him. A human with wings. This was crazy, everything was crazy. 

Two feathers now sat on the kitchen table, identical in shape, but not pattern. Both were unique. Dean marveled at them, in pure wonder. His silent friend was human. No wonder it’s ways seemed methodical-they were. Indecision addled his brain, Should he tell Jo or not? After a few more minutes of pacing and hyperventilating, he decided against it. He would tell her-of course he would!- but when it came up.

Dean trusted her, but he had to be careful. Words got around easily in a small town like Pringle and he knew everyone would be at his door, wanting a chance to see the man-bird. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He felt protective over the man, almost ferociously so. Today’s hunting trip wasn’t happening, now Dean was paranoid. What if he accidently shot him? Or scared him off permanently? The thought physically horrified Dean and he felt sick to his stomach. 

Sitting down, so he could breathe better and clear his head, Dean thought about his options. Either he could try and contact him, maybe figure out just what exactly he wanted, or he could wait for Wings to come to him. Neither seemed like a great idea and he lay on the couch confused, pressing his thumbs to his temples in frustration. That is, until he heard the gunshot.

Without hesitation he leaped up, scrambling to grab his gun and slammed the door shut without locking it. Shit shit shit. Someone was on his property, and they had a gun and they were shooting it. At what? His jog went from fast to insane as he tore through the woods, branches whipping at his face, headed for the other end of the valley. It’s just a deer. They’re just after a deer or a bison or elk or something else! Not Wings. Not Wings. Head racing and blood pounding he crashed over a log, hitting the rise on the other end, and he got a clear look of the scene. 

And his heart stopped and his stomach hit the ground. Campbell, one of the more elderly hunters of the area was standing over another pale body. Black wings sprawled out, feathers slightly splayed underneath him. There was blood coming from a wound in his lower abdomen, and Wings’ breathing was shallow and fast. Dean held up his gun and aimed it at Campbell who had yet to notice him, furious, the viewpoint shaking. “Get the fuck away from him.”

He saw him jump, and look up at Dean, guilt riddling his face, but he didn’t move. A shotgun was held loosely in his left hand. “I said move.” 

Obeying his orders, Campbell stepped back, stammering. “I didn’t...I-I didn’t know. I thought he was an eagle....I had no idea....” His hands went up to his mouth, and he fell back, horrified at what he’d done. 

Dean didn’t have much time, glancing at Wings, he saw that a red gleam of blood was starting to trickle from the corner of his mouth and his eyes moved frantically. He slid down the slope and went to take off his jacket and remembered his was only in his boxers. “Give me your coat. NOW.” 

Campbell removed it and threw it at Dean, staying exactly where he was. Quickly Dean pressed it to the shot, moving his other hand to the back side to see where the bullet went. There was no opening there, and he was thankful that he didn’t have to remove Wings’ clothing, as he wasn’t wearing any. He tied the jacket around him and slid one arm under his legs and the other across his shoulder blades, lifting him up carefully. Dean had to get him back to his house immediately, before Wings lost too much blood.

One last time he regarded Campbell. “Get the fuck off my property. And don’t tell anyone about this. He’ll be fine I promise. But you won’t be if I see you here again, or if I hear about this from anyone. Do I make myself clear?” 

The man nodded gravely and fled. A quick as possible Dean made his way back to the cabin. He had to duck and weave, fearing that the drooping wings would catch on a branch or boulder. Wings’ head rolled, and he would barely whisper, eyes searching the sky for something. 

The time it took to until he could lay Wings down on his dining room table was agonizingly slow. Dean could feel him losing life in his arms. Once Dean managed to put Wings on the table without his head smacking the wood, he searched the kitchen for a bowl of water and some clean washcloths. His wings spread out almost three feet on either side of the table and Dean knew this was going to be tricky.

“He...help.” Wings voice was like a ghost’s, he barely heard it, and he was standing right next to him. 

“Sh...Sh....I’m gonna help you.” Wings hand shook, following the edge of the table, feverishly searching for something to hold onto. Tentatively, Dean slid his fingers between his, feeling his calloused palms. “Wings. Wings, you gotta listen to me. Wings, please.”

“I....I trust you...”His breathing slowed down, and his grip on Dean’s hand went from frail to almost bone crushing. Wings’ blue eyes were on him, flickering a little in the low light. Eventually he passed out, his painful grimace replaced by a soft one, and Dean started to remove the bullet from inside him. 

***  
The sun was starting to shine through the thick curtains Dean had pulled across the windows of the front room. He watched Wings toss and turn, his face contorting into pain every time he moved, their hands still intertwined. The steady pulse in his wrist helped Dean breathe. He was so scared. What if he screwed up the surgery? He couldn’t lose what he’d just found. 

Dean caught himself following Wings jawline, examining the stark contours of his face like he would never see them again. Please, just please make it out alive. His eyes flickered under his thin eyelids.

“Don’t die on me, Wings.” The words slipped out subconsciously. “Please, God, don’t die on me.”

He had never let his eyes leave him through the night, worried that if he looked away, he’d be gone. It felt weird, being so genuinely worried for someone. Dean had been worried over small things, but he’d never taken too much time to stop and put one hundred percent into anything. Yes, family mattered to him, but he’d never understood any of his relatives, or their motives in life. Nothing compelled Dean and he hated that. 

Nothing except perhaps Wings. Deep in his chest, he felt what he thought was a permanent emptiness being filled. The mere presence of the winged man was enough to feel whole, like slowly bit by bit, he was being built. Dean wished he would wake up. He wanted to hear the gravely voice again. 

He wondered if Wings had a name, and if it was a pretty name. It probably was, it fit his face. At thoughts like those, which occurred more frequently than he’d like to admit, Dean would shake his head. Never having fallen in love before, it was a little hard for Dean to grasp that he might be having feelings with a human-bird-man that he’d never even had a full conversation with. 

Dean had the decency to cover up Wings with a blanket. The two’s hands were still tightly wound around each other long after Dean fell unconscious. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh. im not sorry for what I have done to him.


	3. Flutter

Something incredibly warm was pressed against Dean’s face. Dismissing it as sunshine he shifted his position away from the light, and the heat followed. Confused, Dean blinked his eyes open, only to be greeted by the same blue eyes two mornings in a row. Wings hand pressed against the side of Dean’s cheek. He had to admit, it was a pleasant surprise, but it didn’t stop him from jumping. 

“Holy shit!” Dean yelled, a little louder than necessary. Wings panicked, his extra appendages shooting out from either side of him, flapping clumsily inside his home, way too big to be open. In horror Dean watched as item after item came crashing down onto his floor off the wall. “Wings! Settle down!”

Movements choppy, Wings pulled his wings close to his back and pressed himself into the corner of the small room, as if he could hide. His cheeks were tinged red in embarrassment. “I...I’m sorry....You startled me.” 

“I got that.” Dean said, kneeling to pick up the numerous pieces of broken glass from a fallen vase. “It’s fine, just come out of the corner.” Wings stayed where he was, and when Dean gave an exasperated sigh and went to pull Wings’ arm, he grabbed the shelf and refused to let go. “Wings. Wings....Wings.....C’mon. Please. Jesus christ, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“My...My name is Castiel.”

He let go of his arm, blushing and hating himself for blushing. “Oh.” It was a pretty name. God damnit, Dean get a grip. “Okay, Castiel then. Castiel, you gotta let go of the shelf and sit down. You were shot yesterday. Do you remember?”

“Yes.” Warily, he let go, arms falling to his side. “I am sorry for the things I broke. I will fix them.” Castiel’s face was a perfect picture of distress, and Dean chuckled. He was genuinely worried about the destruction he’d brought, and his wings were quivering. 

“No, Castiel- can I call you Cas? It’s fine, okay? Really. Just sit down before you injure yourself more than you already have.” When he moved, the blanket that had been covering Cas fell to the floor, and Dean whipped around to face the kitchen. “I-I’ll go get you some clothes, just go sit on the couch okay?”

He rushed to his room, pulling out a pair of jeans, which he assumed would fit and an old college football t-shirt. Dean presented them to Cas, feeling self conscious and trying not to look at him. Yet again, his wings were spread across the couch, as it seemed he prefered to avoid sitting on them or crushing them. Glancing, Dean saw the bandage wrapped around his torso was bloody and needed a changing. Cas struggled to put on his pants and Dean knew that he had never worn a pair before in his life. 

Troubles arose, however, when Castiel tried to put on his shirt. It made it to his shoulders before the cotton was stuck on the bulge of his wings. “Oh shit, yeah. I forgot, about the uh, the wings.” Cas smiled faintly, handing the shirt back to him. Dean tossed it to the end of the hallway. “Your bandages, need changing....I’ll go get some new gauze.”

He left and returned with the entire roll, sitting down next to him, carefully navigating the feathers. Untying the bandage, their hands kept knocking into each other as Cas tried to help him. Each time, a chill shot up Dean’s back. Finally, he managed to get the new bandage wrapped around him, making sure that the wound was clean. 

“Thank you, Dean.” He said. 

He nodded. “You’re welcome.” Silence fell, and neither of them could seem to look away. Every fleeting touch Dean took, or Cas gave him, made his heart flutter. His mind was racing. He was attracted to Castiel, desperately so and he had no idea what to do. 

Every time he closed his eyes, there was Castiel’s face, his shoulders, his neck burned into his memory. Dean pushed the feelings aside. He had to care for Castiel, make sure he was okay and that was the end of the story. Castiel would leave and that was what Dean was afraid of. And that wasn’t even the beginning of the problem. For instance, what was Cas? Was he even safe to be around? What was happening?

There was a low rumbling sound and Cas looked down at his stomach wistfully.

“Right,” Dean said, clearing his throat, “First things first, “I’ll make some food.”

The kitchen was practically the only room still intact in the entire cabin. As Dean pulled eggs out of the fridge, he thought twice. He didn’t want Cas eating any relatives. Instead he pulled out package of bacon, feeling it to be a slightly better choice of food. He set about cooking the strips of bacon, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Castiel peering from around the corner. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and spread across his face. “Hey, you can help if you want. You just have to keep your wings pulled in tight orr things could get messy.” 

Eagerly Cas entered, his wings more compact than Dean would have thought possible. “What do I do?” He asked, held tilting at the sound of the sizzling meat. 

“Well, for starters, see that cabinet? Yeah that one, grab the bag of flour out of there, and then in the fridge--the white box thing, grab some milk.” 

Castiel reached into the fridge and immediately pulled his hand back. “It is cold.”

Dean laughed at Cas’s surprise. “Yeah, it’s cold. That’s what the fridge does.” 

Cas began to make a pile of ingredients to the side of the stove, dutifully following Dean’s orders. “What are these for?”

“Pancakes!” Dean grinned, recklessly pulling a spatula from the array of utensils hanging on the wall in front of him. A few others came down with it, but he didn’t bother to pay attention to them. Most of his curiosity was put towards Cas’s wonder at the burners. Bent over, he’d turn the knob and gape at the fire that flicked on. 

“Humans have made progress.”

Dean turned off the burner, sliding the crisp bacon onto two separate plates, and flipped the last pancake before doing the same. “Yeah we have, I guess. Whatever that means.” He brought them back over to the couch, and sat down cross legged, Castiel following his actions like a child. Dean shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth, watching Cas try to pick up a pancake with his fork. After a few seconds he gave up, and turned to the more primitive styles by using his hands. 

As much as Dean could have sat and watched Cas all day, he had important questions that should probably be answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you cute. it's getting cute  
> i hope maybe not i'll go away now


	4. Tinged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised you little shits cute.

“Cas, what are you?”

Castiel looked up from his food, eyes a little wide with surprise. “I’m an Angel, Dean.”

Dean choked on his orange juice. “A what?!”

The confusion on Cas’ face towards Dean’s reaction only led Dean to believe that he must be serious. Cas’ eyebrows knit, and he frowned, his dark pupils were a little dilated only letting a little of the Midnight Blue circle it. “I’m an Angel.”

Dean set his cup of OJ down and blinked. He realized that would make sense. His eyes trailed across the soft edge of his wings, feathers water falling down from there, layering and overlapping. He remembered Castiel saying earlier that human’s had made progress, his naive wonder-filled face at the burners and the fridge. Maybe he wasn’t from down here. This didn’t bother Dean, and he didn’t notice that. Dean cleared his throat. “Okay. You’re an Angel, from like, Heaven, right?”

“I am from Heaven.” He nodded, turning his attention back to his food, pleased that Dean believed him. He put a whole pancake in his mouth and chewed happily.

Dean was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he was eating breakfast with a celestial being. “Okay, so Heaven. Why are you down here then?”

Cas’ eyes dropped, and he was silent. “I...I fell.”

“Fell?” Dean asked quietly, aware that it must be a touchy subject for him.

“Yes, I fell. It was an accident. It hurt. And now I can’t communicate with any of the others. I’m stranded here.” The Angel shivered, and pulled his wings in closer to his back, tightly pressed against him. 

With a sudden urge to comfort him, Dean moved his hand over Castiel’s both of them resting on the couch. Cas’ eyes fluttered down to them only for a moment before he continued. Feeling the heat flush to his face, Dean gave him a little smile. 

“When I fell, it was a miracle I managed to move my wings before I crashed to the ground. And after, I felt I should stay in the forest. It would be aimless to try and go anywhere else: to try and find help in humans- possibly consequential. And I was right, one of you shot me thinking I was game.” He gulped.

All of a sudden Dean felt ashamed, and he rushed to apologize. “I’m sorry. Campbell’s old and his judgement isn’t what it should be. He shouldn’t have shot you, he shouldn’t even be carrying a gun.”

“It’s okay, I can already feel this body healing. I should be able to do more than sit around soon. I hope I can, actually. I have to figure out how to get back.”

Dean felt a pang to his heart, and he had to pause for a moment. Castiel was going to leave, he was going to go back to heaven. It was selfish, but Dean didn’t want him to. The past few months that Cas had been around were the best ever in his life. Even when he’d been in the trees and distant Dean still felt at ease, his mind clearer than when he had been with Sam and John in Kansas. “You...How do you plan on going back?”

Cas gave a dismissive shrug, his wings mirroring the action. “I don’t have a clue. I’ve never heard of any angels coming back, so I have nothing to go on. There isn’t much II can do until I’m healed.”

Feeling relieved, Dean nodded, picking up his mug of OJ again and taking a sip. “Well then, I guess I’ll just have to keep you busy until then?” Smiling, Cas agreed and resumed clumsily eating his breakfast.

As the day went on Dean stayed close to him at all times, for safety purposes he assured himself, his green eyes following Cas’ graceful movements. It was obvious that the panicked spree from earlier was shock and that he had full control of his extra appendages. He disappeared around the corner, for a moment, and Dean went back to his book, turning the page with a finger. When he looked up again, Cas’ stood in front of him, all three discarded feathers in his hands.

“You kept them?” He asked, squinting at them.

Quickly Dean set the book on the armrest and searched for an excuse, only arriving at a blush and a stammer. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Dean could’ve sworn Castiel smiled, a small quirky curve in his lips. “Well, angel feathers are a rare commodity here. You should put them somewhere safe.” 

“Oh! Yeah, okay.” Jumping up, he gingerly took them from the Angel’s hand and brought them over to the mantle piece and laid them atop it. “There.”

“Seems worthy...” Cas mused. 

Dean looked back and had to avert his eyes. Cas’ was driving him crazy and usually Dean had game. Or something to come to his defense, but his winged friend was completely and utterly the definition of social incompetence and somehow it was making him invulnerable. 

So Dean went about his daily chores; laundry, dishes, sweeping and cleaning up the mess that Cas had made, but with a curious little duckling behind him. Dean laughed quietly, the idea of a duckling having wings like the Angel’s was ridiculous and he muttered so out loud. 

“Ducklings?” Cas overheard.

“Ducklings.” He still looked confused. “You know baby Ducks? Baby Birds?? They’re yellow? And they walk funny? No?”

“I’m a warrior of God, Dean. I don’t associate with small birds.”

Dean feigned insult. “No time for the birds? You better make time. I’m pretty sure here you count as King of them.” He waited for the man to laugh, or even smile, but Castiel just stared at him blankly. “Well then.”

For the next hour he forced him to sit down on the couch while he grabbed his laptop and showed him pictures of first ducklings, then elephants; upon his request, Cas had only ever heard of them. What really fascinated the angel were the eagles, in particular the golden ones. Tentatively Cas took the laptop from him and, using quickly adapted skills, scrolled through google search, eyes wide with pure amazement. 

“They’re beautiful.” He whispered.

“Their wings aren’t as pretty as yours.” Dean felt the words slip out of his mouth and he couldn’t stop them. Cas blushed, for the first time, and Dean could feel his stomach drop. Admittedly he’d blushed before, but only for embarrassment from his clumsy actions. This time Dean caused it, and he knew, he was going to abuse his power of words to see his pale face flush again. In instinct to hide, Cas drew his wings around him, and directed his gaze at them. 

Shit. Dean thought, what I would do to make this guy blush. No, what I wouldn’t do.  
“Alright, Cas. You should get some rest alright? Superspeed healing or not, it’s a bullet wound and I’m your doctor and I’m telling you you need sleep.”

With a dragging sigh, Cas relinquished his reign of the laptop. “Do I have to sleep on the table again?” He asked, innocently. “It’s not pleasant.”

“No...” Dean said, smiling at him. “You can sleep on the couch alright? Just don’t break anything.”

He shuffled back and forth, bringing him blankets and better pillows. If Dean thought about how Castiel would sleep his with his wings he didn’t ask. Cas answered it anyways, as he laid down on his stomach, cocooning into the mass of fluff around him. His wings resting peacefully on his back, folded casually. Draping one more over Cas’ back, Dean went to go turn off the lights and stopped. Without thinking he went back to the nestled Angel and bent over. Cas opened his eyes, and Dean pressed his lips to his soft cheek before straightening. Giddy, Dean flicked the lights off and blindly made his way to bed. 

“G’night , Wings.”

Later that night, when the small cabin was dark, and Dean was almost faded out, he heard a rustle and felt the mattress beside him give. He reached out a hand, and Cas grabbed it. Silently, he spread one of his wings over Dean, a new and better blanket and nuzzled into his side, giving out a content sigh before both of them fell asleep curled around each other.


	5. Telepathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both of them make important discoveries about the other ;)

Dean woke up groggy, the sun shining through his useless curtains. He blinked, staring at the shifting blurry green branches outside his window. It must be windy, he thought. And then he felt something touching his hand, and he glanced over at it. A warm pale hand was intertwined with his, thumb rubbing against the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Following the arm with his eyes, he saw Cas lying down next to him, wings spread halfway, a few discarded feathers around him. Dean blushed furiously when he met the blue eyes, and looked away, sitting up quickly.

“H-hi, uh, Cas.” He choked out. Damn, losing your cool. 

“Hi.” Cas said, smiling at him, totally oblivious as to why Dean might be blushing. “I think you slept well. I slept well.” He grinned, and readjusted his grip on Dean’s left hand. “Better than in a tree at least.”

“Yeah.” Everything Dean was thinking was just pouring out of his mouth and he felt like a lovesick teenage girl. “Me too....I mean I would assume sleeping in a tree would not be fun, especially with such big...gorgeous...wings...” Stop talking. 

Gingerly Cas moved closer to him, until his head pressed against Dean’s thigh and his wing covered his legs. Dean shivered with the contact and continued to stammer. “When did... When did I...When did you come in here?” He finally managed, barely able to concentrate on anything other than Cas’ hand right above his knee. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” Cas replied evenly, and softly. “I haven’t slept since I fell. I can managed a little, but not the amount that I should’ve gotten. It’s hard to, without my flock.”

“Flock?” Dean asked, reaching out and resting his other free hand on Cas’ soft, chocolate-brown bed-head. 

“The other angels...up in heaven. We always slept together.” Woo, Dean raised an eyebrow. Cas saw. “Not like that, Dean. I mean as a nest. I’m used to others’ presence while I sleep, which has made it hard since I fell.”

It was so pressing. Dean wanted to know what he meant by fell, but he knew better. Never poke and prod at peoples’ wounds, he’d learned from many hard experiences with family, most of all Sam. Dean felt a pang at the thought of his younger brother. Especially Sam.

“I miss them.” Castiel said, quiet. 

The man felt for him, he really did. He missed his family too, even though they drove them up the wall. “Yeah, well, you have me now, so you can sleep. Now how about a shower to get all the dried gunk off of you?” 

Earlier Dean had managed to wash most of the blood off with a rag and some water, but it hadn’t been his number one priority so it still was blotchy in places on his skin. Not to mention he had been living in the woods, so he wasn’t what you call clean. Then there were his wings however, and he had no idea how Cas would manage to keep them dry, or if he even cared. 

Sighing, Dean slowly stood up and grabbed a towel from the closet. Cas let go of his hand, but followed him, his footsteps silent compared to Dean’s grumpy lumbering. I could use a shower, he thought, but then decided he could wait. Dean directed them towards the bathroom, yawning. His stomach grumbled when he passed the open kitchen wall in the hallway. 

“Okay, so. Here’s the faucet, turn it right for cold left for hot. Soaps up there...Uh.... Shampoo. I hope you don’t need conditioner.” Dean knew Cas had no idea what he was talking about. “Don’t leave it running for too long okay? Holler if you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen making food.” 

Cas gazed at him blankly and Dean nodded, backing out of the bathroom. I hope he knows what he should do with his wings because I sure as hell don’t. Already busy with slicing bread to put in the old toaster, Dean heard the water start and glanced around the open area to see Cas was already putting one leg in the bathtub. With his pants on. Pressing his forehead to the fridge door, Dean groaned. “No, Cas. You gotta take your clothes off first okay?”

“Why?” He heard the angel reply, as though that was ridiculous.

“That’s just the way it is. Now do it because I said so.” Peeking one more time he saw the angel definitely didn’t have the pants on anymore, and immediately turned around and went back to his cooking. The image of Cas’ butt plagued his mind while he tried to make breakfast. 

When Cas crawled out of the bathroom he had the towel wrapped around him. His wings were a shade darker and water slid off of them in torrents whenever he moved, dripping onto the newly done hardwood floor. 

The man grimaced. “Can you dry off your wings?” Dean asked, and Cas bumbled to the front door, stepping outside and opening his wings repeatedly, same as the way a dog shakes. When he came back in, his feathers were puffed up, but dry, and a few clung to his skin. Cas meandered to the kitchen smelling like Dean’s soap, a quirky expression on his face. Grinning at the disheveled, slightly distressed Cas, he put the plates of food on the table and ruffled Cas’ soggy hair with a hand. 

“Why did I have to do that?” Cas demanded, but in a unserious way, looking up at Dean.

“Because you smelled weird.” Dean retorted, snorting and handing the angel a fork. 

They ate in silence for the most part, with a slight bump in the road when out of nowhere, Cas asked why Dean was thinking about his butt and yet again Dean ended up choking on his food, fire creeping into his cheeks. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” He said, even though he knew exactly what he was talking about.

“I can see a hazy image of what seems to be my rear in your mind.” Cas said casually, taking a bite of toast and looking at Dean. 

“You can read minds?” Try as Dean might, he couldn’t shake the picture of Castiel’s ass as he stepped into the shower. 

“Yes, I do have slight telepathic abilities. They were just weakened in my injured state.” 

“That’s not fair.” Was all he replied with. Dean had to watch his thoughts now, he had to guard them carefully. Cas just shrugged and the quiet resumed, with a much more cautious Dean. 

Dean watched Castiel fret over his wings, preening them in between bites of toast. Cas asked him some questions about how the plumbing worked, and Dean explained as best he could, while thinking.

Jo is probably wondering where I am. I haven’t been to her coffee shop in a while and I’m usually in town at least once a day at some point. He prayed that Campbell had kept his mouth shut like he promised, but Dean couldn’t be sure. The only way to know was to go into town and find out. Or wait here until the mob showed up. Preferring the first choice, Dean spoke up. 

“Cas, I need to go into town today. I need to make sure that everything’s okay there.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Cas asked, looking at the grape he stabbed with his fork. 

“Well, the man who shot you...Who knows what he’s told everyone.”

Sighing, Cas replied. “Well, I suppose that’s true. When are we going?”

“That’s the thing Cas. You gotta stay here okay. We don’t exactly have winged people walking around like it’s normal, so you have to be safe here at the cabin. I’ll go see Jo, I trust her. If I think I can, I’ll tell her about you, okay. Maybe she can come here and see you.”

Lenient, Cas put his fork down. “If that is what you feel best, I trust your judgment, Dean.” He looked at him.

Grateful that Cas took the secrecy in stride, Dean stood up and dropped his dishes in the sink. “Well, okay. I’m gonna go now, I gotta get more food anyways.”

“What should I do while you’re gone?” Cas said, following Dean’s actions.

“Well, I got books over there, and the laptop you can go ahead and use, and I have some paper over there...if you have any use for that.” Dean pulled on his jacket and opened the door. “Just lay low, alright? Don’t go outside except for maybe the porch, and if you hear anyone coming, just please, hide somewhere in the house and call me. Here.” Handing Cas the home phone, he gave Cas a quick tutorial how to dial his number, and smiled at him. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Cas nodded and Dean left, leaving Cas to mope around his home. 

***

The first thing Cas did was turn off the burner. Dean had left it on. Shaking his head, Cas went to the bedroom and stood in the middle for a good minute before deciding to look in the closet. He found an arsenal of jackets and button up shirts. “Why so many?” He asked the lamp. He was staring longingly at a leather jacket and a red button-up, when he noticed something shimmer from a box on the top shelf. 

He turned his head curious, and reached for the white box. His finger tips only grazed it so he jumped. Accidently knocking the box over, the contents scattered on the ground. They were pink, and shiny. Carefully he picked up one of the items, turning it and watching the light catch on the pale bows around the trim. “This does not seem like a male item.” Cas told the lamp, discerningly. Was there a woman in the house? He glanced around the room and then turned his attention back to the panties. No that was ridiculous, if there was a woman, Dean would have told him. He ran his fingers over the bumpy ribbon and smiled. He pictured Dean wearing them, flipping pancakes and laughing at Cas’ confusion. Cas liked the idea. He liked it a lot. But he put them back in the box, and tucked the box back on the shelf and closed the closet door. “Another day.” He told the lamp. 

Cas was drawing Dean, and he was bundled up on the couch, when the phone rang. He grumbled at answered it. 

“Cas?” He heard Dean say quietly. 

“Yes, Dean?” Cas asked, sitting back down and adding a freckle to a cheekbone where he knew Dean had one.

“So Campbell didn’t say anything. I’m glad for his sake because otherwise he would be dead by now. Anyways, Jo doesn’t know about you yet, but she wanted to come over and I couldn’t convince her otherwise so you’re going to have to hide and be quiet until she leaves.”

Cas felt slightly offended that he would have to hide in his new home. “Dean I-”

“Hey Cas, I uh, I have to go. But please, there’s a closet in the hallway, when you hear the car pull up on it. I- Oh bye.” Cas was left with the phone pressed to his ear and the drone of dial tone.


	6. Closets etc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo comes over and Dean is dYING.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise you this chapter isn't just coming out metaphors
> 
> also never take me seriously because I'm literally always just blushing and laughing at my own writing because i think im funny.

Jo was wanting to take another look at the feathers, to see if there were more. Dean offered to bring them around tomorrow but she wanted to walk around outside his property to see if the bird had dropped anymore. Her eyes had lit up when Dean walked into her café. Dean realized she'd been waiting for him to come around. No offense to the town, but it was probably the most interesting thing that had happened around here in awhile. 

When Ellen walked in, she'd taken one look at Dean before eyeing Jo and saying "No." 

Ellen was just loud and clear enough for Jo to sigh and lean forward slowly, banging her forehead on the table in resignation. Ellen Harvelle was her mother, a woman in her late forties, early fifties, with blonde wavy hair a lot like Jo's and a warm face with deep lines. Even her stance however, said that she was a mama bear and not to be quarreled with. Hands on her hips, legs braced apart like she was constantly ready for a fight.

Dean almost took offense at her instant judgment. Did he really look that unrespectable? But instead he just grinned at her and took another sip of coffee as Jo gathered herself and continued on about how she thought it could be a vulture of some sort.

Dean snorted at that.. Cas- a vulture? Not quite.

"So that means I can come over, right?" Jo asked, glancing over at her mother behind the counter.

"Ye-"

"Joanna Beth Harvelle, you going to introduce me to this fine upstanding young man?" Her voice cut clean through Dean's reply with a slightly elongated drawl and he ducked his head, part from laughter and another from fearful respect.

Dean stood to shake her hand, wincing slightly at her iron clad grip. "Sorry, Ma'am. I'm Dean. Dean Winchester."

"You can call me Ellen, Dean." She looked him over once again, before asking. "So how do you know Jo, and why is she going over to your place?"

"I'm new here, fresh meat, I guess. I just happened to stop here and befriend your daughter, Ma'am."

Jo, who was growing impatient with her mother's helicopter parenting, interrupted him. "Mom, he's got some cool feathers on his property that he thought they could be worth some money and offered to give me some. I'm going over to pick them up, so maybe you can stop acting like I'm 12."

Ellen glared at her, crossing her arms. "Fine. And you're not 12, you're 17. That can most times qualify as even more stupid…Don't be stupid, Jo." They stood up, and headed towards the door, before she pointed at Dean. "You don't be stupid either 'cause I'm watching you.."

"I won't Ma'am."

***

Now there they were, sitting in the impala as it purred over the soft curves of road leading out of Pringle. The hills were a lush green this time of year, and he could barely see through the forested slopes. He turned onto his private road and before long the car was on crunching pine needles instead of asphalt. The Impala croaked to a stop and Dean cringed. He should probably fix that, and soon.

"Wow, you really cleaned up the place, Dean. Last time I was here I was hunting with Dad, when he was still around. It had been a mess back then. Like half of it was collapsed in or something crazy. You're a miracle worker, Dean." She popped open her car door and stepped outside, starting towards the cabin.

Dean hoped Cas listened to him or this was about to get very awkward. Unlocking the door he closed his eyes, bracing himself for Jo's shock of a lifetime when she spoke up.

"You okay?" She asked, giving him a weird look and walking inside. "You kinda look like you need to shit."

Oh thank God, he thought, opening his eyes. Cas had remembered to hide. The air was tinged with a slight must, probably from before Cas took a shower and everything was more organized than when he left. His encyclopedias and novels were brought back to the bookshelf, chairs around the dining table pushed in and wow, all the dishes were clean and put back into their proper places on the shelves. Cas had kept himself busy, he noted. And he was helping Dean leave a good impression for Jo.

As Jo stepped into the front room, Dean glanced down the hallway towards the supply closet. It was closed. "They're over on the mantelpiece. I'll be right back."

He left Jo and opened it slowly. Poor Cas was hunched up inside, his wings curled up around him, tweaked into an awkward position just so he could fit into the closet. Dean forgot about the actual shelving in there and he realized Cas had less room than the small amount Dean previously imagined. Cas looked up at him, a small frown on his face and his eyes bigger than usual. He looked like a kicked puppy and Dean felt immense guilt, but there wasn't much he could do for him.

Cas opened his mouth. "Hello Dean-

Jo stepped around the corner and he closed the door with a loud bang, enough to shake the painting he had hanging on the hallway wall. He winced, hoping he hadn't slammed it into Cas' face.

Jo squinted at him, confused. "Is there someone else here?"

"No, I uh, there was a uh….I've got a really bad cough." He said, and then proceeded to show her an example, faking one as best he could into the corner of his arm. It was well timed because he managed to cover Cas' grumble about him being a liar.

"Oh," She said, not convinced. "I could have sworn I heard someone…Anyways, I'm looking at these feathers again and it really couldn't be a vulture. They look so much like a hawks, just bigger. I was, uh, I was thinking you could let me take a walk around your property to see if I could find anymore to take home?"

"Yeah," Putting his hands into his pockets, Dean grimaced internally. This was a bad idea. "Sounds great. I'm gonna use the restroom but I'll meet you outside?"

She nodded, and Dean walked into the bathroom and closed the door, standing and waiting for her to do the same with the front. When he heard it slide closed, he quickly opened the closet.

"Sh." He said, putting a finger to Cas' lips, because he was about to talk again, and this time he looked disgruntled. "Did you leave any feathers around outside?"

"No, Dean. I'm was very deliberate with the ones I left around for you. I'm aware when I lose a feather and I haven't." He seemed very serious.

"Okay, I gotta go help her 'find' some. As soon as I close the door you can go into my closet, it's probably got more room in there. We shouldn't be too long, okay."

Cas crossed his arms and squinted, something he'd picked up from Dean. "Fine."

 

***

Jo was so engaged with her hunting that she didn't notice that Dean was also off in a world of his own.

Cas had said he deliberately left every single feather in the hopes that Dean would find them. It was like he had a Secret Santa. A heaven-sent, winged, cute Secret Santa. Did he say cute? He shook his head to clear his thoughts. 

Jo climbed onto a rock to get a better view of the surrounding area. The sun was mid point in the sky and Dean sought shelter under a pine tree from the smothering heat. He decided the rest of the hunt was for Jo. Partially because he didn’t want to aid anyone in the discovery of Cas and partially because it was too damn hot out to go hiking. He said the latter out loud and, with a shrug, Jo wandered off by herself, leaving Dean to his thoughts. 

Maybe Cas was not as careful as he thought he was, and she would find one or two, but Dean predicted she’d probably be going home empty handed. 

He was there waiting for almost an hour, about to doze out, before Jo returned. She huffed up the hill, more than a little sweaty, but she was grinning. “Found it…” 

In her hands was a feather, not in very good condition. It had been rained on and probably half-buried in some dirt but it was there nonetheless. Dean smirked, standing up and dusting himself off, his butt more than slightly numb from sitting on the hard ground that long. Apparently Cas really wasn’t as careful as he thought. 

“Well my mother probably thinks we've had sex at least four times by now, so I should probably get home…” She grinned at him, blushing slightly. She was cute when she blushed. “Thanks, Dean.”

“No problem, and when you get back tell your mother not to think of such unsightly things as that.”

***

Cas was so fucking grumbly when Dean finally got home from dropping Jo off, that he thought a Cas-commanded lightning strike would fry him right then and there. Dean chuckled at the thought. 

Stretching his wings, which was sorely needed, Cas watched Dean inspect the living room. “Boy, you really cleaned up the place didn’t you…” His hand trailed over a piece of paper near the phone and he paused, picking it up to show Cas. It was the drawing Cas had done of him earlier. “Is this me?”

“Yes...I...I uh, was ‘bored’.” 

Dean looked at it and made a small noise which Cas could not identify and then set it back down.

Cas frowned, Dean was acting slightly different that he had an hour ago. His cheeks were pinker than normal. Maybe he was getting sick? Not many Angels fell to illness, so he had no experience with the matter. He knew sometimes Humans got so sick they died. Oh no.

“Dean?” He blurted a little louder than intended. “Are you dying?”

“What?” Dean looked at him incredulously. “No. Cas...No, I’m not dying.”

Cas sighed, relieved. “Oh good. I’m sorry, I saw that you were slightly discolored in the cheeks and I know that can mean you’re sick. And Humans illness can be fatal and…”

Dean looked away quickly and snapped. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m _not_ dying.”

His wings ruffled like they sometimes did when he was despaired. He’d angered Dean and he didn’t know how. “I-I’m sorry, Dean did I-”

“No,” Dean interrupted his voice rough. “Cas. I’m just not dying.”

***

Dean was quiet for the rest of the day. He went out to Singer’s Auto in town to get the Impala checked and when he came back he made dinner and they ate which only extended the silence between them. Cas checked on him occasionally, but the pink color had not faded away. In fact, it may have been stronger than before. 

Later that night, when Cas was curled up in bed and Dean was in the shower, he heard him making noises. The sounds continued for several minutes, muffled by the falling water and then he heard Dean let out a very soft, quiet cry and all noises stopped. Cas wondered what Dean was doing, but he wasn't going to ask.

When Dean came out of the shower, slightly damp, wearing sweats and a white t-shirt, he crawled into his side of the bed, back to Cas, covered his face with his pillow and switched off the light without so much as a ‘Good night’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xoxo sorry for the late update. im going to start giving myself a deadline. 
> 
> starting now this updates every saturday, meaning next update is July 5th, maybe sooner. 
> 
>  
> 
> (ps. i told you dean was dyING.)
> 
> (pps. i love you guys! i haven't thanked you readers yet, but you mean a lot to me. //muah)
> 
> (last ps i promise. the next chapter is going to be major build up and then after wahlah so please don't give up on me yet)


	7. heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find out more about Heaven, and Castiel's feelings towards it and his family, Dean's connection to him deepens and Campbell shows up again. Also Jo meets Cas and there is some groos schmoop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a look at this wonderful meta on Castiel's favored heaven: http://outpastthemoat.tumblr.com/post/39490124612  
> Also the chapters are going to start being at least a little bit longer. Hope that's not a problem for anyone.

Dean arched his back against the warmth adjacent to him. Feeling a wing straighten out to umbrella him, he nuzzled his head back into his pillow. He was too tired to care about anything other than sleeping more and fell back into total unconsciousness. 

When he woke up, it was with Cas pressed into his side and it was peaceful. They laid there for several subdued minutes. Dean listened to Cas breathe, felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, and he looked so mild and tame compared to his usually fiery presence. Cas wasn’t scowling with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as it seemed they always were when he was taking in the new world around him; he looked like a big baby, and the thought made Dean smile recklessly.

It had been a Sunday morning- that is, the last time Dean had woken up to a guy and been happy about it- Dean fought to recall his name, it had started with a ‘B’; anyways, that had been something. He remembered the beard, and the big hands. That had been the night before Sammy was going off to college, marking the exact point of his full failure in John’s eyes. Dean was still to this day a highschool drop out and Sammy was going to Stanford. It had stopped bothering him a long time ago, but maybe it was best not to think about his deadbeat dad. Dean sat up and rubbed his face his with hands, shaking it off and heading towards the shower. 

Bacon, or at least the scent of it, drifted into the room and Cas sat up with a jolt, wide awake. With a mumble he wrapped himself in the blanket, or at least as best he could over his wings, which were a little sore from the awkward position they had been left in while he was asleep and he bumbled out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

Dean caught a glance of him through the shelves and grins. Cas’ bed hair is probably the wildest thing he’d ever seen.

Groaning, Cas sat down and bumped his forehead onto the table.

“Well Good Morning to you too, you big baby face.”

“I’m very tired, Dean.” It was a second after he continued to smear his face into the table that he added, “Which I do not understand because I slept very well last night.”

“That’s weird, dude. Maybe it’s a bird thing.” Like a mother hen, Dean dropped a huge plate of bacon in front of Cas and said, “Eat.”

“I’m not a bird Dean, I’m an Angel of th-”

“Yeah yeah, Angel of the Lord. Got it.”

Cas grumbled again and put a piece of bacon into his mouth. “This is very delicious. Heaven’s food all tastes too saturated.”

Heaven. A place of good that actually really exists. Cas brings it up so casually, but to Dean, the sinful, sad runaway it means more than the world. And for a second he felt genuinely hopeful, an emotion that has evaded him ever since his mother. The thought that she was gone forever, that Mary Winchester was up there in the sky made Dean’s heart wrench. Cas flinched, just slightly. Dean had forgotten that he could more or less hear his thoughts, and he felt bad so he cleverly disguised his hurt with his own wonder and sat next to Cas. 

“What’s it like?”

“Heaven?” Cas asked, mouthful with more than a healthy amount of bacon and an eyebrow raised in surprise. He shifted, nervous knowing that there could be his own family's eyes on him as he sat there with this human. 

“Y-yeah.” Oh no, he’d overstepped the line. Maybe it was a secret and no one was supposed to know what it was like until it was their final destination. He’d probably just committed a huge Angel taboo just because he wanted to know that his mother had gone to a cool place. Dean smoothed out the panic as Cas would smooth out his ruffled feathers and waited for Cas’, who had gone silent, to reply.

“I can not tell you what it is like.” Cas paused and Dean withered. “I wouldn’t do it justice...I can show you however. Are you sure you would like to see it, Dean.” If Michael ever found out, Cas would surely be charged with some horrendous crime, but he remembered that he was no long one of them and that he was walking among men. They had no right to interfere in his life anymore and he wouldn’t let them this time. 

For a split second Dean saw defiance light up in Castiel’s eyes. The tension in the room grew tenfold. “Lean forward.” Cas said, more confident than he’d been before. Obeying, Dean leaned towards the other man and Cas pressed his finger to his temple tentatively. “Are you sure?” Gulping, Dean nodded. 

And then he was somewhere else, somewhere where he felt like he was floating. But he wasn’t himself either, and he quickly realized he was looking through Castiel’s eyes and memories. It felt intimate. Dean didn’t know if he could ever show someone the memories of his mother or even Sammy. This was a part of Cas and therefore it was important. He took in his surroundings as well as he could. 

In front of him was every heaven cliche he’d ever heard of. The sky was a soft baby blue and the ground non-existent, a plain expansive stretch of white. All that existed was a tall wall and gate, made intricately of pearl-grey marble and seemingly ten feet thick. There were carved statues on either side the gate- creatures with three sets of wings and a body that Dean could glance at but never fully comprehend. It all seems so grand and pristine and surreal. Dean found himself laughing.

“What is so funny, Dean?” Cas sounded miffed, at it was kinda cute.

“I’m sorry…” Dean said, sobering. “I shouldn’t laugh, I just never thought heaven would actually be y’know...the pearly gates and everything.”

Dean could swear he felt Cas smile when he spoke, his low voice piercing into his mind. “It’s not a myth, and I too think it’s a little much. But the only purpose any of this serves it to display our power. It’s essentially a warning to anyone who wishes to enstile harm or declare war on heaven. The gates are our warning that we will protect what is inside.”

That makes sense, Dean thought, and before they could blink they were somewhere else in Cas’ memories. It was a garden, or more a park. The grass was green, and cut but not pristine as the outside of Heaven had been. The trees grew freely and crooked around the field and flowers had been planted in colorful splotches here and there. A bumblebee flew past his vision and in the sky a kite brightly colored kite soared in the air, a man standing at the end of the string. There was an empty bench not too far away. 

“Cas, is this what the inside of Heaven looks like?” Dean liked it. It wasn’t paradise, but it was something better, something that felt whole and good. 

“Yes… and no.” Cas said, elaborating. “Each soul that lives here has their own heaven. It’s essentially a big ever-growing kingdom with little territories inside. This is the heaven of an autistic man.. he died in his bathtub in 1953.”

Dean wanted to ask why he was here instead of in Cas’ own heaven but deep down he knew the reason. Cas would never say, but it was becoming obvious he didn’t like Heaven very much. Again, Dean could feel Cas’ smile as he looked up towards the kite and then he spoke.

“My heaven isn’t my heaven, Dean. It’s my brothers, my sisters, Gabriel’s and Anael’s and God’s. It was created just for me and I have never felt more alone than when I stayed in it. It’s part of the reason that I left.” His voice caught and trailed off but Dean noticed the slight apprehension when he said Anael’s name. 

“Do you think we could see my mother’s?” He asked. 

“I wish I could Dean, but this is only my memory and I have never been to it. If I had, I would show it to you, I promise.”

That was okay. His mother was here, somewhere, laughing and definitely happier than she had been her last few days on earth. He didn’t have to see her to know that, although he wished he could anyways. 

He was back at his dining table and he was crying. Cas reached forward and wiped a few of his tears away with the pad of his thumb, his face riddled with concern. “Dammit, I’m sorry. I uh, I don’t usually cry. I’m sorry you have to deal wi-” He was so embarrassing and he could feel the fire creeping up his cheeks. 

“Dean, look at me.” Dean felt a hand underneath his chin and then he was guided to look into Cas’ cornflower blue eyes. “You’re mother is up there and she loves you very much.”

There was a knock at the door and both of them looked up. “Shit shit shit.”

“Dean? It’s Samuel Campbell? I just uh, I wanted to apologize. I know you’re here but I really feel bad about what happened so could I please come in and talk to you.”

“Cas?”

Cas shook his head, eyes wide with fear. “No Dean, no no no.” 

Outside Campbell, was pacing on the deck with the likeliness of a predator closing in on it’s prey. “Please, I feel terrible, I want to talk.”

Cas was frantic now, his wings flicking up and away from his back, setting himself into full flight or fight mode and Dean knew this was bad. “Cas.” He said, but Cas was checking himself out. So Dean took action, grabbing Castiel’s forearms and leading him away, watching as his wings quivered. He led him into his room and sat him down on the bed, framing his face with his hands so Cas would look at him. 

“I’m going to go talk to him. I’m going to tell him to leave. He’s not going to come in and he’s not going to hurt you again, okay. Just stay here and you’ll be fine, understand?” Underneath the primal fear Cas felt childish with the way he was being addressed but he could only nod yes. “Okay. I’ll be right back, I promise.” 

Cas shuddered, but at least it was a response. Gritting his teeth, he opened the door just wide enough so he could hold an actual conversation. Campbell had sweat dripping down his bare temple. 

“Go away.”

“Please, I want to apologize.”

Dean barked out a laugh, short and mean. “You just made him panic. You hurt him, Campbell, you shot him. He’s scared of you and you have no right to come here. In fact I told you to never step foot on my property again or it would have consequences, remember? Now, I don’t care if it’s eating you up inside that you can’t apologize. You don’t get to demand what happens from here on out, he does. When he forgives you, if he forgives you, is his choice and he will approach you. Do you understand?” He asked, not nearly as kind towards him as to Cas.

Campbell shot him a small heated look. “Yes.” His voice was laced with subtle hostility, Dean could almost taste the venom. 

Dean’s voice was flat. “Then leave. And don’t you dare tell anyone about him.” 

Sulking away back towards his truck Dean could feel an uneasiness building. It didn’t look like the old man took kindly to being reprimanded and he hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite him and his angel friend in the butt. 

He took a deep breath. He hadn’t had to talk to someone like that since he’d left Kansas. 

 

Cas eventually calmed down, although it took a cup of hot chocolate, which Cas took an immediate and strong liking to, and one of Dean’s favorite blankets. He sat, curled up on the recliner as he stared out the window. 

Dean was only a few feet away seated on the floor, back pressed up against the couch, a pen and paper in hand as he scribbled some trees he saw. He drew a raven, the beginnings of a sketch of the impala and then he drew Cas. Dean placed strong marks for his straight edged nose and jawline, soft ones for his hair which was definitely in need of a comb. He took in his eyes, vivid and big, and his strong shoulders sloped, with Cas’ wings and feathers flowing behind him. 

He couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop wanting to reach out and touch him. He’d fallen into his life loud and rudely and now he was settled in, a part of his home and Dean felt like the luckiest guy in the world. Cas had shown him Heaven, a deep intimate part of him because he asked. Dean wished he could return the favor somehow. 

 

It had been a total mistake, a slip of tongue and thoughts that Jo learned about Cas. Dean was on his way to sell game that he caught for the small restaurant in town when he stumbled upon Jo. She smiled at him and gestured for him to come over. She was installing one of Pamela’s sculptures into a small grassy area near the cafe. 

“Hey,” Dean said, giving her his best charming smile. 

She returned the favor with a hug. “I found a great spot for that feather you gave me. It’s right behind the cash register on the wall. It’s a spot of honor.”

Dean chuckled. “Cas would be proud.” And then his face paled and then he realized that by doing so he’d given it all away.

“Who’s Cas?” She asked, her curiosity sparked. 

“He’s uh, he’s my dog.”

“Dean. You don’t have a dog.”

Shit. “How’s your mom doing?” He asked, frantically trying to change the subject. 

Jo crossed her arms, one finely groomed eyebrow raised quizzically. “She’s fine. Who’s Cas?”

“He’s nobody, okay.” Dean wanted nothing more than to become one with the sidewalk . 

She smacked him on his arm. “Get out! Is he cute?” 

“What?”

“This guy, is he cute?” 

“What no, he’s not. Okay he is a little bit, but that isn’t...this isn’t…” Dean was losing half of his secrets and fast. Who knew Little Harvelle could be intimidating when she wanted to.

“I demand to meet him.” She said. And that was when Dean felt his stomach sink. Once Joanna Beth Harvelle wanted something, she was going to get it. 

“You can’t.” He replied, weakly. 

She pursed her lips but pushed on. “Uh huh. I’ll just go over there myself. Anyone who can catch Dean Winchester’s eye is worth meeting.” 

The only good thing about this situation was that Jo was a kind soul, unlike Campbell, and he didn’t have to worry about her doing them harm. Maybe he could introduce them… Dean let out a long resigned sigh. “Okay, fine! I have to take this game over to Missouri’s and then I’ll take you over to meet him. You have to keep it a secret though. And he’s kinda weird.”

“Psht. You can trust me, I promise. Plus he can’t be too weird, I’ve seen you.” She winked. 

When they stepped inside the cabin, Cas was half way through dismantling his kitchen. He looked up from behind the open fridge door to see Dean and the girl from before. His immediate reaction was to hide behind the fridge. “Dean!” He said, his voice high pitched from fright. 

“I told you this would happen.” He said to Jo and then he called out. “It’s okay Cas, she knows. I messed up. You don’t have to hide.” But Cas remained tucked in behind the door. Groaning, Dean took it upon himself to go grab him. 

“Shhh,” He whispered, trying to be as comforting as possible. “It’s alright. Jo’s a good guy, I promise.” When that didn’t seem to ease him, he hugged Cas tight, his face pressing into his neck, and he was acutely aware of everywhere their bodies touched. They broke away just a breath too late. Cas smiled up at him, albeit tentatively and then grabbed his hand and Dean felt himself blushing at the contact. He led Cas out of the kitchen.

“Jo, this is Castiel. Cas, Joanna.”

Jo’s mouth dropped, her eyes darting from him to Dean to where they held hands and back to his wings, trying to take in what was in front of her. Dean could almost feel his heartbeat in his mouth. What if she reacted wrong? What if he got hurt because of it? He’d just endangered Cas and it would be all his fault. 

“Oh my God.” She inhaled in for the first time in a good twenty seconds. 

Cas shifted uncomfortably, pulling his wings in closer on instinct and tightening his grip on Dean’s hand, something he did when he felt out of place. Cas sounded profoundly alone when he spoke, “I know I am very strange looking.”

“No!” She blurted, stepping forward. “You’re... beautiful.” She reached out to his wings, her hand shaking just slightly, then stopped herself. “May I?” He nodded only a little stiff. Tenderly, she let her fingers brush against his right wing. She smiled, and took her hand away, musing. Everyone was silent for awhile and then her small smiled turned into a full blown grin. 

“I don’t know any of the story behind this but everything makes sense now. The feathers, you’re roundabout answers, that one time I knew I heard you talking to someone. I knew it.” 

Dean was grateful that she was taking this way better than she could’ve been. “So...you’re not gonna tell anybody.”

“Cross my heart. I can see why you wanted to keep this cutie a secret. And I’m not gonna ask about anything until you see it fit to tell me.”

“That’s...really cool of you, Jo. You’re amazing.” 

She laughed and then gestured at Cas. “Thanks, but he’s the one that’s amazing.”

Cas’ wings shot out in pride, ruffling each little feather at a time and he elongated his neck, pink staining his sharp cheekbones. “Thank you.” 

She let out a small squeal. “C’mere and sit down. I have questions about how your wings work.” She and Cas, who was now content, settled down onto the living room floor. Dean sat to the side, amused merely by watching his Angel and his friend touch each other’s arms in demonstration and enthusiastically speak with anatomic words that he hadn’t the faintest clue meant. This, Dean thought, was the best feeling in the world. 

 

A day later they were lying down on the bed together, exhausted after doing yard work around the outside of the house. 

They had been careful about it, hiding him when anyone drove past and keeping an eye out for any stray hiker who might stumble by. Dean gladly taught him how the lawn mower worked and Cas was delighted in how it gave the grass such a clean cut. He wasn’t, however, as fond of the chainsaw that Dean used to keep the trees from overgrowing onto the cabin. It was loud and sour and tried to jump out of his hand. 

After an hour they were sweaty, tired and ready to seek shelter in the cool cabin. Now here they were lying down side by side, breathing heavily and covered in dirt. 

“That one tree was a bitch wasn’t it.” Dean grinned. 

“If by saying that you mean it was difficult to cut down, then yes it was a ‘bitch’.” 

Dean laughed so hard he hurt his stomach. “Cas, you gotta learn figures of speech or you’re gonna kill me.” Cas squinted at him, trying to understand his words and Dean made a noise of exasperation before burrowing his face in the blankets next to Cas. Cas smiled, like he did when he made Dean happy, and held his hand up to examine his fingers.  
Without thinking, Dean put his own up and pressed their fingers together. His hands were bigger than Cas’ but only by a mere centimeter. Cas’ fingers were softer than his too, because they were newer. He slid his hand and wove his fingers between Cas’, whispering. “You have nice hands.” 

Cas ran his thumb over Dean’s. “Yours are nice.” He insisted, and he quieted. “They feel softer than they look.” 

Dean flushed down to his neck at the compliment. “Oh yeah? Well guess what, you smell good, even when you’re all sweaty and gross.” 

“You smell like apples all the time, Dean. It’s pleasant.” As if to emphasize he brought his head to Dean’s chest and breathed in deeply. Instead of resting it back on the bed he left it there. “And your heart beat is beautiful.” 

Dean knew Cas said it to be kind, but he was having trouble keeping it together. Cas didn’t know that Dean wanted to kiss him, to feel his mouth against his own or to hold him, to fold themselves around each other so Dean could know in his bones that Cas was going to stick around. But he didn’t do these things, he just wanted to lay there with him for a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Schmoop! 
> 
> Next chapter we get some action. (finally)... Thank you for sticking with me! <3


	8. Soar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my old heart  
> It's been so long  
> Since I've given you away  
> And every day I add another stone  
> To the walls I built around you  
> To keep you safe

_____________________________________________________________________

 

The morning was soft, hazy. Warm and pale light filtered in through the windows, lighting up the dust that drifted down from the rafters above Dean’s bed. It was midmorning. He'd been awake for awhile now, blissed out under the blankets, and Cas' face was buried in his neck, one wing spread over both of them as had become procedure, the other curled tightly to his back. The feathers looked softer than normal, less like a wild animal's and more like someone settled into their nest and Dean couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and touch them.

 

The feathers were smooth against his fingertips, and he felt himself smiling, crooking his neck to make Cas fit into it snugger, his nose pressing against Dean's Adam's apple. Dean ran his fingertips in between the feather's, feeling them- feeling Cas- and Cas stirred but didn't wake, nuzzling against Dean.

 

This was a normal occurrence now. Dean didn't feel the need to question their closeness while sleeping, it felt natural, was natural. It was normal how they looked at each other, exchanging glances any time they could. More often than not Dean found himself following Cas’ actions, the subtle movements of his muscles, he watched the shadows on his skin and he itched to feel it underneath him.  

 

His eyelashes fluttering, Cas opened his eyes. Dean looked away, cheeks rosy with the embarrassment from being caught and pulled the covers off of himself. “Time to get up, sleepy.”

 

Cas scowled, but eventually got off his lazy rump to take a shower. As Dean poured orange juice into separate glasses for them both, (he decided that today Cas would get to drink out of his favorite mug, because if anyone got to, it would be him) he couldn’t help but listen in as Cas slipped around in the shower, squawking with disgruntlement.He heard some shampoo bottles clatter to the bottom of the shower. All this time and Cas still had no idea how to keep his footing on anything other than hardwood floors. Shaking his head, Dean chuckled.

 

“You okay there, bud?”

 

Cas poked his head out from the bathroom door, and gave Dean a dark look, his chocolate hair dripping onto the hardwood floor, the tip of his wing that showed shivering just a bit. “Your technology is confounding. I dislike it. Angels have a much better way of doing things.”

 

“You say that, but what if I took away your precious fridge and stove.”

 

Cas’ eyes narrowed even more, if that was even possible. “No. Don’t do that.”

 

Dean set the glasses on the table. “That’s what I thought. Go get dressed, you have to eat something today.”

 

Dean had to give him some credit, he thought as Cas disappeared back into the small bathroom, he’d finally figured out how to keep his wings dry. It was a rather convenient timing, Dean couldn’t help thinking, that he looked up right as Cas was leaving the bathroom, as Cas hadn’t bothered to cover his back end with the towel. Dean got a little more than an eyeful of Castiel’s peachy bum as he shuffled his way to the bedroom.

 

Sure, Dean was going to hell, but he’d do so with the ingrained memory of an angel’s ass and he was pretty okay with that.

 

They spent the better part of the next few hours arguing, sprawled out on the living room floor. Dean insisted that the blue puzzle piece went into the pile of other water pieces, Cas insisted that it belonged in the rather large assortment of sky ones. Dean scowled, looking at the big complete picture of the “mountain lake scene” on the box and he let out a groan of exasperation. They both arrived at the same conclusion: the entire ordeal would be much easier if the painting was not so simplistic. Block coloring really didn’t do anyone any favors.

 

As he was setting the box down, Dean heard a knock on the door. Both of them froze. “Dean? Cas? It’s Jo.”

 

Relief flooded Dean. He had been so caught off guard, so worried that it was Campbell standing on his front porch, ready for another go at Cas.  “Jesus, Jo. You scared me.” He hissed, yanking the door open.

 

“Sheesh. Sorry for knocking.” She retorted, stepping inside. Tucked under her arm was a blank canvas, and in her other hand was a blue case that looked considerably heavy.

 

“What are you doing here?” Dean eyed her suspiciously, and Cas drifted closer, to take the box out of her hand. “What are those for?”

 

Placing the canvas on the nearest chair, she rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you ever heard of art, Dean? Jeez, you’re so uncultured.” The blue case clicked as she opened it to reveal a shit ton, or at least what Dean’s “uncultured” ass would estimate to a lot, of paint tubes.

 

“Who are you? Picasso?” Dean asked, a skeptic.

 

“For your information: I’m an amatuer oil painter.” She pronounced each syllable and made herself comfortable in Dean’s favorite, well Dean’s only, recliner. “Relax, Dean. I’m not here to paint you nude. I’m going to paint Cas.” Closing his eyes, Dean prayed she wasn’t going to ask him to strip. He could not handled that right now.

 

Cas seemed delighted at this idea, and he poked through the various bottles, all marked on the front with a splotch of color they contained.  “You wish to paint me, Joanna?”

 

“Yep! That’s why I’m here. Now go back to working on your puzzle and pay no attention to me.” Jo sunk further into the leather chair, and rested the canvas on her knees. Cas listened to her, delightedly, resuming his position on the floor.

 

“Hey.” Dean pointed to the chair, feeling the need to intervene somehow, and Jo looked at him. “Get any paint on the chair, and I’ll...turn you into one.”

 

She grinned and gave him a thumbs up. “Got it. Now go make me coffee.”

 

“Thanks for your consideration.” Dean muttered, but it was a resigned mutter. He slunk into the kitchen to go brew a pot. For himself- and Cas, not for her, he thought assuredly. The afternoon sun shone onto the backs of the trio through the windows, warming the room where they sat for hours.

 

_____________________________________________________________________

John always liked to use the old guns, the kind with the ramrod and caps, and Dean didn’t like to think that’s why he used them too, but it probably was. It was a slow process, but eventually Dean would shake his father’s influence on him. So he shouldered the gun, that he liked because he liked it, and slid out the front door.

 

The sun was just starting to break the horizon, lighting the creak that weaved through the meadow a pink gleam. Dean didn’t let his boots make even the slightest sound as he tread quietly through the trees. The deer were more active before daylight so it was when he prefered to hunt. Plus now that he had Cas to entertain, it was better for him to do it now then when he had to watch out for visitors.

 

He had to walk slowly, so he could notice even the slightest movement through the thick branches of the pine trees. At any moment, he’d need to be ready. The money from his previous hunt was already spent, now that he was paying the expenses of two, and it was important that he his target this time.

 

Kneeling, he took the powder and doled out 90 grains, just enough so he could reach his range of 100 yards and just enough so the kick of the shot wouldn’t leave a bruise, and he put the patch and ball down with the ramrod, pushing it to the bottom. He was ready for the shot any moment now. It was just a matter of waiting.

 

In the past, Dean had felt no need to hunt, in fact he hated the idea so much that when John took him and Sammy out, he’d protest and squirm and purposefully snap branches with his feet to scare the game away. But here, he was hunting for his own support. He could have worked for Singer’s Auto, but Bobby couldn’t afford to pay another mechanic, so until there was an opening, selling the game to Missouri would have to do.

 

For several minutes Dean sat in silence, with only the far off chatter of a couple of birds and the steady rush of the creek to keep him company. He closed his eyes, but for a moment and fell into a sense of ambedo, entranced with the vividness with his surroundings.

 

A twig cracked behind him, and he turned slowly, reaching into the small bag he brought for the cap. A deer, a rather large one, it’s golden brown coat shimmering with it’s movements as it drank from the creek. Dean placed the firing cap in the gun and pulled the hammer back. He steadied himself and as his aim leveled, exhaled and pulled the trigger.

 

The deer fell, and no sound other than the crack of gun was heard. After a long breath, Dean felt the compulsion to thank the fallen animal.

 

The bells above Missouri’s Diner chimed as Dean opened the door. She looked up from the table she was waiting, a young couple who were lucky enough to find the miracle of good food in the wasteland of shabby-tourist-restaurant country.

 

“Well hey there, boy. I’ll be with you in just a minute.” Dean nodded, and couldn’t help a smile as he sat down on the bench near the door to wait. Missouri was probably the snarkiest, happiest, most honest person he knew- and for those exact, he loved her. She was like the shorter version of Ellen. Dean chuckled to himself. Maybe he had a type.

 

Once she had taken the order of the couple, and dropped the order off to the kitchen, she came around to Dean, her hips swaying in time with the spoon attached to her apron. “Got some more game for me?” She asked, though she knew the answer.

 

“Of course, Ma’am.” He quipped, ducking his head and headed to the door. He’d have to bring the deer to the freezer around back in order for it to keep and age properly but she stopped him.

 

“You seem perkier than usual, boy. What did you catch this time?”

 

Dean barely withstood the creeping blush, knowing he wasn’t particularly moved either way by his hunt this morning, and that it was probably because of Cas. “Just a deer, Ma’am. Nothing special.”

 

She squinted at him, eyes scrutinizing, but resigned. “Alright, alright, whatever you say, boy. Now let’s get that deer to the freezer, I got some customers to get back to.”

  


Dean pulled in under the spruce trees near the cabin, feeling better about his ability to take care of Cas.

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

Dean glared at the painting of the angel, the one Cas had proudly put on the mantelpiece, because it was actually really good. It looked exactly like him, and captured his big baby aura perfectly. Turns out Jo knew what she was doing more than she had let on. It rested next to the feathers.

 

He chuckled, turning his head to glance at the other man. “If we have any more of you in this place, it’ll be a Castiel museum.”

 

“I don’t know what a “museum” is, Dean.” Dean could barely hear it over the pounding of the rain against the roof, but Cas mumbled from the kitchen. Cas was making dinner tonight. He wanted it to be a surprise, is what he told Dean, but the man could only worry. Hopefully he still had a kitchen at the end of this. Cas had shooed him away from the fridge with an order for him to lay down and relax.

 

So here he was, cringing at the sound of pots clattering. “Please don’t set my home on fire.”

 

“I would never do that.” Cas uttered, obviously insulted. “Then I’d have to stay in that tree again.” Dean smirked at that, knowing the angel was 100 percent serious.

 

“That’s adorable.” He yawned, stretching his legs to rest them on the coffee table. Puzzle pieces were still littered on the hardwood floor. Both of them had been too lazy and too confounded to finish it or even clean it up.

 

“I am not adorable.” Cas grumbled, and though Dean couldn’t see him, he’d bet on the visual that Castiel’s eyebrows were furrowed. Honestly, it was getting ridiculous. Everything he did made Dean grin like a giddy school boy.

 

Outside it poured and poured. The clouds had been built up when they awoke that morning, and it had started to fall around ten. Fog banks had slid in from the higher ground, making the forest around them an opaque grey. Both had decided it was a good excuse to sleep in until noon. For awhile, Dean hung around his phone, awaiting good news from Bobby, but there had been nothing. It had been a slow day, but it was still a good one with Cas by his side.

 

The rhythmic sound of the raindrops, began to lull him to sleep just as Cas called his name. He got up, groaning like an old man when his back popped. On the table were...chocolate chip pancakes? “Breakfast for dinner, eh?” Dean asked, sitting down in front of what he assumed was his plate. He had to admit that was cute.

 

“I supposed from what I’ve experienced that this is a breakfast food. Should I have made something else?” Cas sounded so earnest and apologetic it broke Dean’s heart.

 

“Jesus, Cas, no. This is fine. This is good. You can sit down.” Only after Cas finally took a seat did Dean take a bite, and his eyes rolled back into his head. “Holy crap. What did you do to these? They’ve transcended the pancake status and moved on to cake.” Cas blushed at the compliment.

 

“It’s a secret.” He shrugged, a gesture he learned from Dean, and took a bite of his own. Dean made a note to tickle the secret out of him later. He knew Cas’ weak spots.

 

His mind wandered as he ate- back to Kansas, back to John. Never in his life did Dean ever think that he’d be sitting down to dinner with another boy. He could never have gotten away with it back there, under John’s scrutining watch. Back in Kansas, everything Dean did was to please his father, whether it was playing on the high school football team or going out late at night for another beer run. Back then, Dean was left to nightmares of John find out his secret. That his son was not as straight as he’d raised him to be. Dean used to wake up in cold sweats, fingers clenched tight around his sheets, a scream dying in his throat, the feeling of a punch to his face not quite fading until he realized it was a dream.

 

Sammy had always been the one to burst into his room, to ask him what was wrong. What he was always dreaming about. But Dean couldn’t even tell his own brother, for fear of both of them.

 

He dreaded John Winchester’s entire existence, loathed him, and above all feared him. The man had ruled his life, had set unbreakable rules and had pushed Dean so far into the closet that even now he still had denial and complexes of his own sexuality.

 

The realization came to Dean, as he watched the angel, whose wings were shifting, the long feathers sweeping against the floor, that John Winchester was not here. If he were to kiss Cas, there would be no consequences, no bruises or broken bones, no screaming or yelling or a “Get out of my house.”.

 

“Dean?” Cas looked at him, his deep blue eyes filled with concern at his silence.

 

No, Dean thought, he wouldn’t  kiss him just yet. This was just the beginning.  

 

______________________________________________________________________

  


Sam jimmied the door knob, but the door was locked as usual. “Dad?” He yelled, pressing his ear to the cold wood. When there was no response, he pulled out a key from his deep pockets and after some struggle, managed to open the rusty, creaky door to John Winchester’s home.

 

Inside it smelled like mildew and spilled beer. The lights were off, and when Sam hit the switch, the spotlight shone down on his father, who was asleep on the couch in a dirty shirt and a pair of torn jeans. He was snoring loudly, a garbage pile of empty bottles and cigarette buds strewn across the table.

 

The water, in a glass Sam grabbed from the sink splashed onto John’s face without mercy and he opened his eyes, jolting up with a start. “Wha...what?!” He asked,  disoriented for a moment, before glowering up at his son, his eyes dark with something much akin to hate.

 

“Dad, where is Dean?” Sam didn’t have time for this. He was supposed to be on his way to a date with Jess, but when he reached John's voicemail for the 7th time, he realized he'd have to pay him a visit. And here he was, standing in the wreckage of his father's life. 

 

“I don’t know.” John groaned, eyes blinking rapidly from exposure to actual light and then, after a moment he said. “I thought he was with you.”

 

“No, he’s not. I’ve been calling and calling and  I haven’t heard from him in months. I came here hoping he was with you.”

 

“He’s been gone awhile, Sam. It’s not my job to keep track of him.” John sounded bitter, as if he had the right.

 

Sam raised his voice, exasperated, brushing a hand through his long shaggy hair. “You know what’s not your job, John? To push him away.”

 

John didn't respond, only reached for a cigarette, not even noticing his son’s frustration. “Dean’s not my problem. Go look for him somewhere else.”

 

His knuckles itched to punch him, but then he would be no better than his father, so instead Sam stalked back to the door. “You don’t have any idea where he is?” He forced the words out, gritting his teeth.

 

“Not the faintest.” John coughed, blowing black smoke out of his lungs.

 

“Thanks for nothing, you fucking asshole.” Sam slammed the door behind him and revved his car to a start, tearing out of the driveway with a screech of his tires. He picked up his phone and glanced at the screen, and unsettling feeling of dread building inside him. Where could he have gone? Sam could only hoped that Dean wasn’t in a ditch or 6 feet under the ground. He couldn't even fathom a single worst case scenario, because with how reckless Dean was, there were so many possible.

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

“Cas, wait up!”

 

The field was soft under the pads of their feet, and Cas' wings were tucked behind his back as he runs with Dean. He was beautiful with the flowers in his dark wild hair, with the light ink colored smudges under his eyes, with the sharp angle of his cheekbones, as he turned his smile to the sun. Suddenly, he opened his wings with a snap and the momentum caught, yanking him up into the air, and then he was flying.

 

Today, Castiel was a free spirit, spiraling into the sky with steady pumps of his wings, never looking down. Ruffling in the wind he soared on, his feathers caught the sunlight and reflected it back onto Dean’s beaming face. Dean raced through the field below him, trying to keep up with Cas, and failing miserably. He stumbled on a rock, and after a weak attempt to keep his balance, his arms flailing uselessly, he fell into the soft grass, the ground damp and pliant underneath his weight.  The mud smeared onto his arms and neck, even a few glops splashing onto his cheek. He groaned and then laid still.

 

Cas, who watched him from above, squeaked. “Dean!” As he lay on the ground, looking up, Dean saw Cas’ eyes widen as he swooped low, tucking his wings in for a rough landing, coming just short of stepping on his arm. Dean closed his eyes, feigning unconsciousness. “Dean! Are you okay?”

 

He knelt, grabbing his arm frantically. Slyly, Dean scooped some of the dark soil into his palm, and waited for Cas to lean in closer. Once Cas was inches from him, Dean opened his eyes and smeared the mud from Cas’ chin, down his neck, to his chest, which was bare. “Got you.” He grinned.

 

Cas breathed a sigh of relief, and though he tried to remain serious, he let of grumpy huff and then smiled, his pointed canines showing through his smirk, eyes shining.”You scared me, Dean.”  When Dean only laughed he shook his head and took his own scoop of mud, cuffing Dean’s neck with it and slowly dragging his hand down Dean’s arm. “There. Now we’re even.” He said, tilting his head to look at Dean shyly.

 

Then they were kissing, Dean pushing Cas into the grass with a muddy hand splayed on his chest. Cas’ was doe-eyed and startled, but didn’t protest as Dean brushed his lips against Cas’, as if asking permission. The only way Cas’ could truly express how okay it was, was by pressing his lips back, urgently. It felt strange, Dean’s lips were chapped slightly, and they felt rough against his own but when the tip of Dean’s tongue ran across the crease of his mouth Cas thought that this was a very good strange feeling. He curled one wing around them, the other lay outspread against the wild flowers.

 

It seemed to last forever, like time was suspended, rooted in this moment as Cas ran his fingers through Dean’s short honey blonde hair, rutting up against Dean, as he sucked on his lips. Dean savored the feeling of Cas’ fingertips as they trailed over his shoulders, the touch lighter and softer than a feather and leaned into it. He broke away to see Cas looking blissed out below him, his cheeks tinged pink, and lips swollen from Dean’s enthusiasm. They both drew a deep breath, and then Dean, who was straddling the angel, brought his forehead to Cas, and pressed one last kiss to his jawline.

 

The clouds in the sky stopped moving, the birds quieted, and it seemed, like as if just for a moment, it was just the two of them. God, Dean had wanted to do that for so long, but if he kept going he didn’t know if he could stop and he didn’t know if Cas was ready for that yet. So he drew away again, never breaking Cas’ flustered gaze. He looked like a dream, his chest heaving, hair messy as it seemed to weave itself into the green grass and blue wildflowers. With a heavy sigh, Dean leaned to the side and fell into the grass next to him, reaching for Cas’ hand who responded by taking it in his own, pulling it so he could kiss Dean’s knuckles. The warmth raced through their veins, a tingling sensation building in their bellies

  
He let out a shaky breath, but could feel nothing but freedom. It would take time, but eventually he’d never have to be scared ever again and that was the best feeling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading!! thank you for sticking with me despite my inability to update consistently!! i love you all so so so much!!
> 
> what did you guys think? was it goopy enough for you? leave a comment if so, it would mean so much to me!
> 
> also, if you are on tumblr, feel free to track/make posts under the tag #feathered hills to keep updated or to give me suggestions/questions/comments :)
> 
> +next chapter comes some actual real action. i promise you. if there is anything you really want to see, leave a comment or something, and i will see what i can do ;) 
> 
> (ps. it wasn't beta'd so if there are glaring errors, let me know!!)


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